That Moment
by Pteromyini
Summary: "I saw him for the first time on a bus. I know. It sounds pretty cliché. And I hate clichés. But if you had seen him, you wouldn't have been able to help yourself either. He was beautiful." AU. M for language. NaruSasu/SasuNaru
1. That Moment

**Hey, thanks for stopping by! This is totally random. Popped into my head at a coffee shop, after riding the bus. Let me know what you think. I'm trying to decide if I should make this into a full story, or just leave it as is. Read, and help me decide.**

**Warnings: Language, smelly bus people, crazy obsessive searchers, cute things**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto. :( **

* * *

**That Moment**

I saw him for the first time on a bus. I know. It sounds pretty cliché. And I hate clichés. But if you had seen him, you wouldn't have been able to help yourself either. He was beautiful.

Not that I noticed him right away. No. I was too self-absorbed. Even now, I'm still too self-absorbed. But if he was here, it would be pretty difficult to only pay attention to myself.

So there I was on the bus after a long day at the office, exhausted, and the last thing I wanted to do was sit on a smelly bus full of smelly people. All ogling me because I was the least-smelly among them. It was tiring.

I honestly don't understand what the appeal is. Sure, I have flawless skin, but it's too pale for my taste. And, yeah, my hair is so dark it reflects streaks of blue in certain light, which I guess is interesting. And maybe some people find my bored, disdainful expression 'mysterious.' But still… I really don't understand why I get so many interested stares from so many people. It's beyond annoying.

But him… I'm not sure why everyone isn't staring at him. Why would they ever look at me when he's around? They must be blind. I know I've already said this… But I really can't say this enough. He's beautiful. Radiant. God… I sound so frilly. And I never thought I would be frilly. I guess he's made me that way.

Let me get back to that moment. That first moment. The moment I finally got my head out of my ass long enough to glance around the bus, for what felt like the first time. I had heard laughter. That's what triggered it. A musical laughter, something about it was different. Compelling. It made me look up.

I had had a pretty shitty day. Hounded by my boss, who also happens to be my perfect, older brother, about the slow progress of our latest project. Then, I'd had relentless meeting after meeting. All of which were completely pointless and ridiculous. Meetings to plan meetings, where we should decide in which meeting we are actually going to start making decisions.

God… What was the world coming to?

Anyway, my day sucked. Like most days, really. Just going through the motions of my life. Not stopping to think about where I am or how I got there. But that moment made me pause to think. That musical laughter; it was so full of joy. Pure bliss. Completely opposite of my current useless and depressing existence. I looked up from my smartphone and glanced around the bus. At first, I didn't see the source. I looked and looked, but once the sound was gone, I simply went back to reading my latest mind-numbing email.

The bus went through a few more stops. The bus cleared out. Then, I heard it again. Filling the bus, bouncing off the smudged windows and the trash-littered floor. My head snapped up, and there he was. He was laughing and it was nothing like I'd ever seen. His eyes clamped shut, his head tilted back, and his mouth stretched wide in an open grin. He looked so happy. So Carefree. Like he hadn't spent the day slaving away and having his soul slowly sucked out of his ears. In that moment, for the first time… I truly hated my life.

It had been building for a while, really. The life-hating. To most people, I looked like I had everything. Money. Power. Good looks. But in that moment, I felt like I truly had nothing. What did any of it matter, if I never achieved this type of joy? The type of joy this man could find on a dirty, smelly bus in the middle of winter at the end of a sunless day. Obviously, I had done something very, very wrong. Because, with the way my life was currently going, I would probably never feel the way that this man does, in this moment, on this smelly bus. And the thought was excruciating.

Yeah, I guess I was being too frilling before. In that moment… I actually hated him. I hated him and his misplaced joy. We're on a smelly bus for God's sake. And I hated his stupid and insanely, happy smile. Who the hell smiles like that anyway? In that moment, I don't think I've hated anyone else more in my entire life. So, I glared. I glared more than I ever have in my entire life. And that's really saying something. I tend to glare a lot.

So, of course, once he opened his eyes, which happened to be the most beautiful, sparkling, blue eyes I've ever seen… God, I really do sound frilly… there I was glaring at him. Like an idiot. Like an angry, scary, asshole of an idiot. Because I was an idiot. Why the hell did I have to glare?

Sometimes, I really don't understand myself.

There I was glaring at probably the most beautiful man I had ever seen. Warm, tan skin. Bright, blue eyes. Bed-tousled, golden hair. Ridiculously, open smile. And I fucking ruined it.

He immediately stopped smiling. His face looked surprised, as his blue eyes went wide. A blush crept up his neck, as I continued to glare for all I was worth. I think my mother was right; if I do hold an expression for too long, my face does get stuck that way.

He slowly began to look confused. Then offended as his blush deepened. Then he decided to glare right back. And…

It was the cutest damn thing I've ever seen in my entire life.

Hn. I keep talking about 'my entire life,' like it's worth comparing anything to or even mentioning. My entire life before this moment sucked. Born as the second son of the highly-influential Uchiha family, I was always given the best of everything, or at least the hand-me-downs from my older brother, Itachi, which were pretty good, too. My life changed a bit, when after graduating at the top of his university in business, Itachi had rebelled against my parents' high-expectations and disappeared for a while. Even today, he won't tell us where he went for those six years. I was still in high school at the time, so after he left, I received all of my parents' misplaced frustrations and newly-found hopes and dreams. I suddenly became the heir to the Uchiha name, instead of the forgotten second son, and with it came all of the pressure to preform and the censure when I didn't measure up.

I resented Itachi for leaving. But… at the same time, I understood him. Especially since I was trying the fills his shoes... and completely failing at it. So, when he showed up six years later, while I was finishing my junior year at college, I can say I was initially relieved. Off the hook. My parent's welcomed him with open arms, and I was once again forgotten.

At least, momentarily.

This time around, my brother was hell-bent on making sure I was included in the family and in the business and not forgotten and left to fend for myself. So, I was included. I'm still not sure if I should be grateful that he cared so much or resentful, since I never wanted to be a part of the family business in the first place. But what could I do? Protest like my brother and disappear?

But I could never do that. For one, I'm not brave enough. Two, I wouldn't want to put my parents through that again. Even if I am just the worthless, second son, I'm sure they would still mind. Three, even if I left, what would I do with myself? I have no idea. And, anyway, I'm good at business. I'm intelligent, cunning, strategic, and competitive. It makes sense for me to be here.

Like sense ever brought anyone happiness…

Of course, then we come back to me glaring like a maniac on a dirty, smelly bus at a beautiful man because he had the audacity to laugh. That doesn't really make sense, and didn't bring me any happiness, either.

Go figure.

So, we're glaring at each other. Me: super scary and insane. Him: super cute and non-intimidating.

He reaches his hand up and tugs the cord along the windows, without breaking his eye-contact with me. The loud 'ding' reaches my ears. A few moments later, the bus swerves and jerks to a stop. He stands up, and I swear my heart is about to punch through my chest. And still, like an idiot, I'm glaring.

He says in a surprisingly, up-beat voice, "C'mon, Kiba. There are one too many assholes on this bus. We can catch the next one." With that, he grabs the arm of the man seated next to him, who must be 'Kiba,' and yanks him off the bus. The doors quickly snap closed behind the two. He turns back around and sends me one last glare through the window. And the bus drives away.

And in that moment, I knew I had to see him again.

* * *

It's been two and a half weeks. Two and a half frantic and agonizing weeks. And I think I've become a tiny bit obsessed. And maybe, a bit of a stalker. Well, I don't know. Can you be a stalker, if you haven't actually found the person you're trying to stalk? I don't think you can. Because then you're just a searcher. So, I guess I've become an obsessive searcher.

And I can't find him anywhere. I've tried everything. Well, everything to do with busses. At first, I tried to take the same 7:37 bus and sit in the same spot for a few days. He never showed. So, then I started methodically going through the bus times, seeing if he would be there. I took the 6:55 bus. Then the 7:09 bus. Then the 7:23 bus. Then the 7:51. And so on. I didn't see him.

Then I tried bribing the bus company to give me the security tape of the bus I took on November 21st, hoping I could at least get a picture of the guy. The customer service representative refused, no matter how much I offered. She told me it was against 'the rules.' Like anyone would know. I finally broke down and told her I was looking for someone on the bus and I had to find them again. That didn't seem to help. The woman I was talking to, who must be trying for sainthood, didn't believe it was right to invade someone's privacy like that. I, then, adamantly insisted she give me the tape, using all of the force and power behind the Uchiha name. I had to find him, I told her.

She offered to pay for my counseling.

I wasn't sure how to respond to that, so I hung up on the bitch. Deciding it was better to go a different route, I paid a professional police sketch artist to draw the man, from what I could remember. It came out surprisingly well, and it seems I remembered his every detail. Which was thrilling and slightly embarrassing. The artist keep asking if I really only saw the guy for a few seconds on a bus. He was really amazed and little bit worried by how much I was able to memorize, in those few seconds.

I politely told him to mind his own damn business.

After I finally received the sketch from the bastard, I wasn't quite sure what to do with it. Do I post it at every bus stop along the 49 bus route? Maybe in the window of every metro bus? Or do I line every, last street in Seattle with his face? And if I did, it what would it say?

MISSING PERSON

_(insert sketch here)_

I didn't realize he was missing, until I heard him laugh and saw his face, and then he changed the meaning of my existence.

If you see this man, please look away as soon as possible, so I don't have to kill you, and call

1-800-IMCRAZY

Or go to the website at:

www . imobsessedwithamaniveonlyseenoncebuticantstopthinkingabouthimsoihavetofindhim .com

Yeah, I'm pretty sure that would go over well… I would probably end up committed.

But on the bright side, Saint Costumer Service Bitch may be willing to pay for my stay at the institution.

So, I've gone back to riding the 7:37 bus. Reading emails on my smartphone. Bored expression. Ignoring the world. Except this time around, I'm not quite as bored as I was before.

Every time I get on the bus, I study every, smelly person seated in every, smelly seat. I walk all the way to the back of the bus just to make sure I don't miss anyone. I discreetly make my way back to the front, acting like the back of the bus is too full or too dirty to sit in. Then, I stake out the front of the bus, and every time it lurches to a stop, I make sure to study every, smelly person that comes on-board. With an expression of boredom and disgust, of course.

Yeah, it sounds pretty crazy to me, too.

But what else should I do? I have his picture, but no idea how to use it without looking crazy. Although, I'm pretty sure it's crazy to sleep with a police sketch of a man, who I've only seen once, underneath my pillow.

But let's not get into that right now. The bus has stopped again.

So, now I must study faces.

* * *

I think I've given up. It's never going to happen. He is never going to walk onto this bus again. I lost my chance by glaring at him and scaring him off the bus. What if I scared him so much, he decided to never use the bus again for fear of running into the weirdo that glares at people who laugh on the bus?

Whatever. It doesn't matter. What would I have done once I saw him again, anyway? I would probably glare some more. And if I could unclench my jaw long enough to speak, I would probably say some scathing remarks that would only serve to insult him and push him away.

Because if I'm anything… I'm self-destructive.

And that would just start a cycle of self-loathing, which would trigger more glares at the man, who inadvertently caused the self-loathing. Probably best to just forget about him and his beautiful, open-hearted smile and expressive, blue eyes.

I would just ruin it anyway.

I stare glumly out the window at the fitness-obsessed bikers in their bright-yellow, windbreakers and their annoying, flashy bike lights. I feel the bus jerk to a stop. The smelly person next to me the raises out of the seat, and I feel the weight of different, smelly person sit down.

The bus jolts forward again and I glance down at my smartphone. Another mind-numbing email.

"Hey, asshole."

I freeze. I know I've only heard his voice once, but I can't mistake the sound. My heart stops for a moment, before restarting with a lurch and running a full pace. As if in a trance, I slowly lift my head. The world around me seems to have stopped.

I meet his eyes. The same bright, sapphire eyes I've been searching for, for four aggonizing weeks.

"Fancy meeting you here," he smirks. My eyes flick down to capture the movement and then settles on those full lips for just a moment too long to be deemed appropriate. He doesn't seem to notice, and continues to speak. "All the other seats are taken, so I guess I'll have to settle for sitting next to your crazy ass. Just try to keep the glaring to yourself this time." He laughs at his own joke, and it's just as mesmerizing as the last time. Blissful. Captivating.

I'm an idiot. Because the only response I'm able to make, to the man I've been obsessively searching for, for four God-damn weeks now, is "Hn. As long as you promise to keep the stupid to yourself this time."

Again. His expression turns from laughter, to surprise, to offended, to finally land on a glare.

And it's the cutest fucking thing I've ever seen in my entire life.

* * *

**Thoughts? Feelings? Should I continue with the craziness, or just leave it as is? Let me know what you think.**


	2. Stupid Family Traditions

**Warnings: Language, Frilliness, Grunting, Nosy Siblings, Family Traditions, High Places that Turn**

**Without further ado, Chapter 2 of That Moment.**

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**Chapter 2: Stupid Family Traditions**

Where was I again?

Oh right... I had just insulted the most beautiful man I have ever seen in my entire life, who I just happen to be searching for, for four damn weeks, by calling him an idiot. Which is probably not my most inspiring moment. And now he is glaring at me like an angry, damp kitten. And he's absolutely adorable.

And yes... I'm being overly frilly again.

I still remember the feeling of seeing him for the second time on that dirty, smelly bus full of dirty, smelly people. I was shocked. Shocked right down to my core. I had just given up. Just decided it was a loss cause. I would never find him no matter how much I tired. And then he appears. And not only does he appear, he sits down in the seat next to mine.

And he remembers me.

Ok, yes. He calls me an asshole, and crazy ass, and tells me to keep my glares to myself. So, maybe I didn't leave him with the best first impression. But at least I left an impression. It has been four, torturously-long weeks and he still remembers me. And that counts for something.

Actually, that counts for everything.

But I did exactly what I predicted I would do only moments before he miraculously reappeared in my life. I unclenched my jaw long enough to make a scathing remark about his intelligence. Awesome. His impression of me keeps getting better and better.

But looking on the Brightside, at least I'm keeping the glares to myself.

"Bastard," he growls. And I can't help comparing the sound of it to that of a small, angry kitten's.

He spends a few more thrilling seconds sending me his incredibly, cute version of a death glare, his sapphire-blue eyes holding mine, before slouching back into his seat, arms crossed over his chest. His expression slowly changes from cute glare to a full-on pout, his bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly. I had no idea grown men could even do that. And God, I thought the glare was cute.

It has to be illegal to look that adorable.

Eh... Frilly.

Ok, so I know it's not polite to stare, but I can't seem to help myself. It's been four weeks. Four frustratingly long weeks since I saw him. I have to see if he's worth all the effort. All the bus riding. The bribing. The police sketching. I need to see if he's even everything I remember.

And he is.

His bright blue eyes, which seem to glimmer in the dim bus lighting, are framed beautifully with long, flaxen lashes. His straight, golden hair looking tousled and slightly damp from the rain outside, messily sticking out at odd angles, as though he has never owned a brush. His pouty lips, looking red and slightly chapped from the bitter, winter wind, still seem soft and terribly kissable. His tan cheeks... Huh.

Somehow, I hadn't noticed the first time. The round cheek closest to me has three shallow, light-colored scars, giving him the look of whiskers. And strangely, the scars add to his looks, rather than detract. They add an edge I hadn't notice before. Something about the scars takes this man from beautiful blonde to intriguing, beautiful blonde.

This man has lived. And I would like to know how.

"Where did you get those from?" My mouth asks the question before my mind can protest.

"Huh?" He is momentarily shaken out of his pouting session and turns back to me. "Get what?"

Now that I can see both cheeks at the same time, I see they perfectly match on both sides. They really do look like whiskers. Interesting. And strangely... sexy.

"Those scars. Where did you get them?" I manage to keep my tone sounding slightly uninterested, so he doesn't realize how much I _need_ him to answer my question.

His blue eyes go wide for a moment, before his face turns guarded. One of his hands quickly travels up to cover his cheek, as he turns his head away from me. "That's not really any of your business," he says.

Yes, I understand I don't actually _know_ you. But I've been thinking about you practically non-stop for a month and I have your _damned_ picture under my pillow, and I may have drawn a few more in my sketch book, so I must disagree with you and tell you that it is my fucking business.

Everything about you is now _my business_.

Instead of saying all that, and possibly sounding a little insane, I simply respond with my trademark "Hn." I'm also trying _really_ hard not to glare. But only because he told me not to.

Oh, Good. I think my right eyebrow is staring to twitch.

He, not-so-sneakily, glances back over to me, using just the corner of his eye; the bright, blue orb studying me intently.

_Tellmerightnowdamnitireallywanttoknow._

I hope he gets the message.

The edges of his lips manage to tweak up, as the hand covering his cheek seems to fall unconsciously back to his lap. "You're really interested, aren't you?"

"Hn." Yes, idiot.

I'm also trying really hard not to insult him again. And I think it's about the hardest thing I've ever done. And I'm the CFO of a Fortune 500 company.

The edges of his lips tweak up further. "Your eyebrow's twitching."

"Hn."I've noticed.

His lips seem dangerously close to actually creating a smile. "Is it _supposed_ to do that?"

"Hn." No, it is not supposed to do that. But I'm currently trying really hard not to _throttle you_.

His lips finally split into a mischievous grin. "Is that all you can do? Just grunt at me?"

And my self-control finally crumbles. I can no longer hold back the glare. Really... How is it that one person can shift from illegally cute to strangle-worthy in under 60 seconds flat? It's beyond maddening.

Of course, the response I expect to receive from one of my death glares is usually a look of wide-eyed terror with an accompanying scream, followed by a quick release of the victim's bowels. Generally something to show me they are now seriously worried for their measly existence.

The absolute last thing I expect to hear is laughter. And that's exactly what I receive.

The blonde man next to me cracks a joy-filled chuckle, and I'm suddenly stuck between two conflicting emotions. The first one being extreme aggravation that my death glare did not receive the proper response, and in fact, seemed to bring on the exact opposite response from the one I was looking for. The second emotion arcing across my mind is pleasure.

I made him laugh.

Inadvertently, yes. But he laughed. And I really like the way it sounds, and I really want to hear that sound again.

So, due to all of the conflicting and complicated crap going on in my head, I end up making a rather confused-looking glare, instead of the proper death glare I'm accustomed to creating. Which, in turn, makes him laugh more. Which makes me feel more aggravation mixed with pleasure. Which make me even more confused and causes more confused glaring.

And the cycle continues for about another minute or so.

Finally, he's wiping the edges of his eyes, as small chuckles continue to bubble out his lips, and I'm at a loss as to how I was able to make him laugh hard enough that he actually cried. I mean, people actually do that? They can actually laugh until they cry? And, honestly, I'm still not sure if I wanted to do that in the first place. Thus... more confused glaring.

"Dude, you're hilarious," he snickers.

I'm also not sure if I like being called 'hilarious.' Or 'Dude.'

He suddenly zips up his shockingly orange jacket and reaches up to grab the handle above our seats. When he stands up, I mournfully realize what's about it happen. "Welp, this is my stop." He adjusts the large, black bag now hanging over his shoulder, as the bus begins to slow to a stop. "So, I guess, I'll see you 'round," he chirps in a hopeful tone with a cheerful smile and briskly salutes with his unoccupied hand. He then deftly weaves though the standing bodies crowding the walkway towards the back, as the bus finally stops, and heads out the back doors as soon as they slide open.

I suddenly feel my body stand, but I'm not quite sure what I plan on doing. My body steps out into the walkway, and I begin frantically pushing past people, as I head for the doors in the back. I can still see him through the windows, walking away down the wet streets, his head ducked to prevent droplets of rain from hitting his face. He reaches one hand up and over his shoulder to the back of his orange windbreaker and pulls the hood over his blonde hair to further protect himself from the drizzling, cold rain. I barely notice when I stumble over someone's feet; I don't even bother to apologize, as I press on. Finally, I'm at the back doors, but they suddenly slide shut. I slap my palm against the glass in frustration. My heart feels like it's going to punch through my chest, as I turn to bellow at the dumb, fucking driver to open the damn doors, but the bus suddenly jolts forward and my body lurches back as I lose my balance. I have to scramble to grab a handle before I fall on my ass. When I recover, I hurriedly look through the rain-streaked windows again, searching for his figure through the drizzle. I feel a painful squeeze in my chest.

He's gone.

And I didn't get his name.

* * *

The tickle of rain can be heard lightly tapping against the window, matching the steady tempo of keys clicking beneath my fingers. Somehow the sound lulls me into a daze and I stare unseeingly at the blinking cursor, waiting impatiently for me to finish my last thought. But my mind is somewhere else.

More precisely, it's replaying the last few moments I spent with the nameless blonde from the 49 bus. The way his full lips jut out as he creates his charming pout. His sapphire eyes sparkling as they look into my own comparatively lifeless, ebony ones. His bright and cheerful laugh still echoes inside my head. And suddenly that helpless feeling returns in full force. I wasn't able to reach him, stuck inside that damn bus, as he walked away in the rain. Leaving me behind.

I distantly feel the pained frown tug at my features.

"That look doesn't suit you, Otouto."

My head whips around, and I meet the piercing, onyx eyes of my older brother, Itachi. He's lounging in the chair across from my lacquered mahogany desk, as though he's been watching me for a while. Somehow, I had missed his entrance into my office. The thought makes me feel defensive, hoping he didn't notice anything while my mind was preoccupied, so my face quickly twists into a glare.

My brother smirks. "Ah, that's more like it."

I answer with a small grunt, not amused by his 'joke.' I dismissively turn my head away, hoping he will get the message and leave, as I finish the last line of the email I had been typing before I had let my mind wander to the blonde… again. It seems to be happening a lot in the last several days. After our last 'meeting,' I had been replaying the event over and over in my mind. To think, that the exact moment I gave up, he appeared. But I was too distracted at the time to actually profit from the encounter. If I had had any sense, I would have asked for his number, or at least his name. Then, I could have already found him by using my numerous connections as an Uchiha. And instead of being seated in an ass-numbing office chair, writing soul-sucking email after soul-sucking email, I could be in a more pleasurable position… like above him with his ass properly occupied... and perhaps even a bit numb... but not from the chair.

So the biggest questions I've been asking myself since he walked away from that bus are:

'_Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with me to have not have gotten his name?' _and _'What is the next course of action to acquire said name?'_

If 'giving up' meant I get to see him, should I even bother searching? Obviously, the bribing, the sketching, and the bus searching hadn't work. Maybe by 'giving up,' I'm actually 'giving in' to the fate of the Universe, or some other bullshit like that.

So, do I not do anything, and just wait for him to cross my path again?

The idea of waiting sounds excruciating. I'm pretty sure by the time I find him again I will be Grade A Crazy and locked up in some institution. He already seems to have taken over my every absent thought, and he has also starred in quite a few of my dreams, racy and otherwise. I have also taken to drawing his face enough times to fill an entire sketchbook.

I'm not sure if I can wait much longer.

I press send, once I've finished typing up a lovely, and rather scathing, email to our brain dead accounting department. I swear if they fuck up one more time, I will personally kill every last one of them with a giant ball of fire. I've never created a giant ball of fire before, but I'm positive I can figure it out.

"You've had a lot on your mind lately."

I start and glance back to my long-haired brother, having momentary forgotten his presence in my office. He's now resting his head on his left hand and his striking, ebony eyes are studying my face intently. Whenever he does that, I get the feeling he's reading my mind. I shoot him another glare, hoping he doesn't realize how uncomfortable I am under his scrutiny.

I turn back to my laptop and begin randomly clicking through programs, looking for something, anything to do. Anything to keep from having the conversation I know is about to happen. My brother noticed.

He always notices.

"This would be a lot easier if you just tell me what's going on."

I try to ignore him this time. My clicking becomes a little more sporadic. I know I'm not fooling him, but for some reason the act of trying to appear nonchalant makes me a little less nervous.

"Sasuke."

I feel my stomach twist with heat and nerves. I really don't want to have this conversation.

"You can pretend all you want, but we both know you're not really working."

"I'm not pretending." I ground out. More chaotic clicking. I keep my eyes on the screen.

Suddenly, the screen snaps shut on my hands. I glare at the abused laptop, until Itachi's coal black eyes are blocking my view.

"Are you ready to talk, Otouto?" He smirks.

I huff, annoyed, and slouch back into my seat, as my brother returns to the chair across from me. I vaguely note how well the navy suit contrasts with his ivory skin. I've always been a little jealous of how good my brother looks in suits. While he seems commanding and formidable, his handsome features creating an unforgettable combination with his crisp, navy suit, I always feel like a little boy playing dress up in his father's clothes. He tugs his long, silky black hair, in his usual low pony-tail, over his shoulder and settles into his seat. Then, he tugs up one of his pant legs, before resting one ankle on the opposite knee.

I can already tell this will be a long one.

He brings both hands up in front of his chin, lightly toughing the fingertips together, as he sends me that piercing stare again. God, I hate that look.

And now we commence.

Raindrops lightly patter against the window, and I swear I can hear every second tick by as we simply stare at each other, waiting for the other one to break. This has become a sort of bizarre ritual between the two of us, started before I can even remember. We stare until one of us blinks, and whoever blinks is at the mercy of the other. Which usually ends up being me, and then I have to grudgingly spill my guts to my all-knowing brother. I hate it.

But at the same time, it means a lot that my brother cares that much. Enough to stare me into submission. Not an easy task to do. I'm incredibly stubborn and not prone to talking about my… 'feelings.' Ugh.

But he's the only one who can get me to… even if it is grudgingly.

My eyes begin to sting as they dry in the stale office air, and I know there's no end in sight to the staring contest we've started. Haha… yes, I made a pun. He smirks, as if knowing the discomfort I'm feeling. The urge to blink become unbearable, but I hate giving in. And I always give in.

My stare steadily becomes a venomous glare. Somehow, his eyes still seems complexly unaffected by the dry, winter air; his body language still remains relaxed. Does he practice this shit or something? My eyes become slits, mainly in hopes that the smaller opening will allow my eyes to rehydrate without blinking. It doesn't work. I feel the frustrated growl rumble in my chest, and his smirk rises higher.

I tear my gaze away, relieved to finally be able to blink, but frustrated knowing that I now have to answer his prying questions. I glare holes into my closed laptop, willing it to explode and save me from the next few moment of torture I'm about to endure.

"Maybe you should start from the beginning."

"There's nothing to talk about," I mutter, not bothering to looking up.

"We both know that's not true," is his soft reply.

I suddenly become very interested in my fingernails, picking out the dirt caught underneath. "Just tell me what you already know." He wouldn't be here unless he already had an idea of what's going on or even evidentiary proof. And I don't feel like recounting my tales of unsuccessful stalkerism.

Itachi seems to pause for a moment, probably wondering if he should press me further. If he has indeed done the proper research, he already knows the lengths I've gone to and how obsessive I've become. The thought of him knowing is embarrassing. I hesitantly lift my ebony eyes to meet his matching ones. I send a silent message with my eyes: 'I don't want to play this game. Just speak, so this conversation can end and we can both get back to our lives.'

Once the message seems to be conveyed, I glance away again and go back to cleaning my nails.

"From what I've pieced together, I think you met someone." Bingo.

In spite of myself, my eyes reflexively jump up to meet his. His eyes turn knowing and his smirk becomes a small smile. I mentally curse.

I just stupidly confirmed his suspicions.

"Who is he?"

I don't waste any time wondering how he knows my mystery person is a man. Itachi's the only one I've trusted enough to come out to, although I'm pretty sure my acquaintances already suspect I'm not straight. Surprisingly, at twenty-six, my parents still don't know I'm gay. I'm honestly at a loss of how they haven't figured it out yet. I've never dated any women, the only 'friends' I've brought around have been men, and I opted to live in a 'trendy gay neighborhood' in Seattle, rather than in a pricey mini-mansion near their house on Mercer Island. So, it should be pretty obvious. But if they haven't figured it out, yet, I'm not going to be the one to tell them. I've had enough of being 'a disappointment' to last a lifetime.

I also don't waste time wondering how he found out I met someone. Itachi has always had his ways, and he has never offered to enlighten me to what his ways are. "I don't know who he is," I answer, as I glance away again.

"Sasuke." My brother tone remains as patient. I never understand how he is able to do that. If our roles were reversed, I would be trying not to strangle him for remaining so vague and uncooperative, like I'm being right now. But I've always been the 'loose cannon' of out the two of us, and my parents are constantly reminding me of how 'disappointing' my temper is.

I sigh. "I'm not trying to be a smart ass. I really don't know who he is." I try in vain to keep the frustration out of my voice.

"But you met him on the bus."

I make an affirming grunt, looking back to my fingernails. God, I really don't want to talk about my mystery blonde with my brother.

"He must be special."

My eyes flick up to his, as my heart does a few flip flops. His knowing gaze holds my slightly panicked one.

Special. Somehow, that word feels so right.

Not that I want my brother to know that. So, I shrug my shoulders, a say off-handedly, "He's just some guy."

A quick response follows my feigned act of indifference. "A guy you've been searching for, for over a month. A guy you bribed a customer service representative for a tape of. A guy you hired a sketch artist for. A guy you seem to be obsessively riding the bus for." Itachi pauses, a smile tugging at his lips. "I don't believe you, Otouto."

Shit. So, he does know everything.

I chew on the inside of my cheek as I glance away… again. Eh, I've done a lot of glancing away today. Seems to be a bit of a theme. I really think it should stop.

"I hope he's worth it." Itachi says quietly. Itachi's dark eyes look serious and tranquil.

My mouth responds before I can stop it. "He is."

"Hm." A flicker of something passes behind his eyes, but it's gone before I can truly decipher what it is. It almost looked like excitement. "Well, if it turns out he isn't, I'm sure you can expect what my response will be." His tone foreboding, a protective energy seeming to stream off him in waves.

"Hn." I feel secretly pleased, but I manage to keep my face neutral. It's nice to know I always have someone in my corner.

My brother stands, and I'm thrilled to see that this conversation seems to be over. At least for now.

"Do you need a ride tonight? Or do you plan on taking the bus?" Itachi smirks at his own joke.

I'm a little less than amused. "I'll ride with you."

"Good. I'm leaving in about twenty minutes. Meet me down front."

I nod to show that I understand. After the door clicks closed behind him, I let out a sigh. At least it wasn't as bad as I had imagined when I realized Itachi was seated patiently in my office. I had been expecting a lecture or a warning, definitely not excitement… or whatever the hell that was in his eyes. I'm just not quite sure what he would be excited about.

I met the cutest and most beautiful man on the planet and I plan on making him writhe and squirm in my bed. I'm not really sure why that would make Itachi excited… or whatever he is feeling. Sure, I've never been this… obsessive with another man, never gone to such lengths, but I'm only looking for him for some mind-shattering sex. That's it.

I power down my laptop and place it inside of my worn, black canvas, shoulder bag, followed by its wrapped up cord. I pull my wool pea coat on over my charcoal suit, and with my laptop bag over my shoulder, I head down to the lobby, while my mind mulls over the conversation with my brother. My brother seemed eager, almost like a high schooler looking for the latest gossip, which is not like him, rather than an older brother trying to keep his little brother from doing any more insane things, which is more like him. And Itachi calling him special…. And me agreeing… even if it was only in my head.

Whatever. It's just sex. I'm just looking for sex.

…

Who exactly am I trying to convince?

* * *

Oh, yay. Uchiha family traditions.

Every year around Christmas, my family eats in the restaurant at the top of the Space Needle. The view is beautiful and the meal pricey. Exactly my family's style. Of course this year, my father was in China for Christmas, so we decided to go two days after Christmas, but better late than never, my mother says.

Itachi drove us over from the Uchiha International office building in downtown to the Needle at the North side of the city. The ride was blissfully silent. I was glad that my brother decided to drop our earlier subject. Luckily, the drizzling rain seemed to have taken a break for the night, which meant the view at the top of the Needle may be worth-while.

So now, here we are seated across from my hard-to-please father and my dutiful mother. The restaurant floor slowly turns allowing us a breathe-taking and slightly wet views of the city below. The red and green lights of Ferris wheel, dwarfed by nearby sky scrapers, are shimmering as it slowly rotates. The inky blackness of the Puget Sound is broken up by a lone green and white ferry pulling into its dock; its reflected lights slithering on the surface of the water. Further out, the lights from West Seattle seem burry and muted as incoming fog rolls into the city. It's beautiful up here.

I can only think of one thing more beautiful.

"Sasuke, have you picked out what you would like to eat?" I meet my mother's kind gaze. She looks particularly pretty tonight in a simple purple dress, her hair tied into a sophisticated twist.

When I say I disappoint my parents, I really mean my father. Not that I haven't disappointed her, but she doesn't respond the same way my father does. He usually gives me a look of disgust, followed by a few derisive comments about my worth and abilities. My mother, however, she's always been kind and supportive, although she can be stern when she needs to be. When I disappoint her, she simply tells me to do better next time and to not worry about my father.

Sometimes, I'm not sure which is worse.

"I'm going to have the spare ribs." I say, offering my mother a glimmer of a smile. It's hard not to smile when she's around.

Her returning smile is bright and charming. "They sound good. How about you, Itachi?" She turns her smile on my brother. Sometimes I'm really not sure why she chose to surround herself with such disagreeable people, like my father and I. Although, since I'm her son, I guess she can't really help that.

Itachi is at least more charming than I am, so I guess he makes up for it. His answering smile could rival her own. "I'm having the filet mignon."

"Excellent." Her eyes seem to shine as she looks upon my older brother. She looks at me like that sometimes too, but I don't think it's quite the same.

"How about you, Okasan?" my brother asks, his tone playful and carefree. I've never really understood this family custom. Checking to see what everyone else is going to order, like it's some kind of fun and peculiar game. Do our answers match? Have you made a good choice? Am I making the right choice? It shouldn't be anyone's business what I decide to stuff in my face.

My eyes drift around the room, until they land on a particular sight that cause my stomach drops to the floor. My heart begins to pound in my chest and I feel an uncharacteristic warming sensation on my neck and it slowly seeps into my cheeks.

Oh, god. It's him.

And he's coming this way.

* * *

**Wah! It's done! Chapter 2! YAY! I hope you guys enjoyed it.**

**I would like to thank everyone who took the time to comment on the first chapter. I have to say ya'll are amazing! (Is my Texas twang showing?) I got so many funny and wonderful responses, it really pushed me to try out this story. **

**After the mind-blowing reviews, I actually sat down and mapped out the whole story, chapter by chapter, and I'm really excited. This is the third story I've ever attempted to write, so I look forward to your reviews and responses. **

**I hope to update every two weeks. If I don't meet that deadline, you are welcome to send me angry and threatening PM's telling me to get my act together or else. ;)**

**Thanks again!**


	3. Terror and other things

**Pleasedontkillme! This is late. I know. And after I diligently promised to get the next chapter to you so much sooner. But in my defense, I got a new job that required training, my parents came for a visit, and applied to grad school and had many essays to finish! Are those enough excuses? I hope so... o.o**

**Thank you to all my amazing reviewers! You make my day and inspire me to write!**

**I hope you enjoy the next chapter! It's short, but hopefully you won't hate me too much. ;D**

**Warnings: Language, Nerdiness, evil siblings, homosexual love-fests, cameras**

* * *

**Chapter 3: Terror and other things**

Absolute terror.

That was the main sensation permeating my body as I watched my latest wet dream waltz towards my family's table. At the time, I was sure that my stomach had exploded through the floor and tumbled to the ground, 605 feet below.

I'm not sure if I'd ever been so scared in my life…

And yes, 605 feet is the distance from the top of the Space Needle to the ground. I looked it up on Wikipedia. I'm a fact nerd. So what?

And maybe that wasn't the scariest moment of my life. There was that time when my brother tried to drown me. And that was pretty much terrifying, to put it lightly. I remember we were in the family pool on a sweltering day in the summer. I was seven. I had said something to set him off. It was probably some fatuous insult. Something inconsequential. But we were kids, and in a fit of 'well-controlled' rage, my brother held me underwater by my throat for several terrifying minutes. I still remember the sensation of being trapped under the chlorinated water. Wanting so badly to scream for help, but being unable to, as I clawed at his arms. My eye burning. The absolute helplessness. The gripping terror. The feeling of my lungs exploding, as I fought my instinctual need to breathe.

I forgave him. Like I always do… But I still don't like to swim.

This feeling is similar to that. Well, without the heaving lungs and the fear of dying. So… not really the same at all. But for some reason, that moment of being trapped under the surface flashed through my mind.

I'm not much of a psychologist. But I assume I must have felt trapped at the moment. Okay, I know what you're thinking… I've been searching for this gorgeous man obsessively and non-stop for over a month, so why the sudden terror? Shouldn't I be jumping for joy and plotting the location to the nearest love motel on my smartphone, or at least, throwing myself into his beautiful, tan arms and sobbing into his shoulder about how I've been looking for him all my life and I've finally found him?

Yeah, you would think.

Instead, my face forms a sort of deer-in-the-headlights look. Yes, I know. Pathetic, right? And my face floods with… Ugh, God. I still can't believe I actually… Okay, let's just say I had a 'moment of unexplainable facial redness.'

And thank the fucking lord for dim lighting. I've decided it's the ultimate blessing of this world.

Due to the fucking glorious dim lighting of the window seat, I believe my moment of unexplainable facial redness was hidden from my parents and my decadent wet dream. However, Itachi seemed to glance my way at that exact embarrassing moment. Damn it.

Well, at the time, I honesty couldn't have cared less about my brother's reaction. I was spending the majority of my brain power trying to not hyperventilate, thank you very much. Now, looking back, I should have realized it was suspicious.

But then again… I shouldn't have been so surprised. This is my brother we're talking about.

The delectable blonde stops next to our table, and I try to calm my breathing, while schooling my face into a blank expression. I still have a reputation to maintain. Plus remember, he told me not to glare. And this time, I'm going to try really hard to NOT glare. Yes, I'm terrified, and perhaps even a little… ehh… nervous… God, I hate that word. It sounds so…

weak.

"Hey guys," his face splits into a winning smile, his voice cheery. "Welcome to the Space Needle. I hope your evening is going well. Would you like me to take a free family pict-…" He pauses, and my sharp eyes take advantage of the silence to flick over to the square, black object he's holding in his hand.

A camera. Interesting.

I feel my eyes narrow instinctively as my brain begins analyzing this enticing piece of information.

"Itachi?"

What? My heart and brain stop for a moment. My heart suddenly recharges and pounds solidly against my chest. I feel my eyes widen to epic proportions. My head whips over to my brother. My brain restarts.

How the hell does _my_ tasty blonde know _my_ irritating, deceitful, piece-of-shit older brother?

It's subtle. But I can see the smirk tug at my brother's lips, as his predatory eyes glance towards me for brief moment. He's checking my reaction. And I feel like a complete and absolute fool. I should never underestimate my evil spawn of a brother.

Never.

Itachi's smirk hitches higher, as he glances back to my blonde. "Na-ru-to." He seems to over-enunciate every syllable. His annoying voice smooth and low, and his tongue seems to roll lovingly over the 'ru' in the blonde's name.

He's mocking me. I know it.

I feel the blood begin to boil in my veins, as I try to control my expression and my breathing. _I'm not supposed to glare._ My jaw automatically clinches and I swear everyone in the room must be able to hear the grating sound of my teeth crushing together in aggravation. My only consolation is that I finally know my blonde's name. But…

Naruto…

This blue-eyed blonde doesn't look remotely Japanese. Plus…

Isn't that a fishcake?

"Hey, man! Fancy meeting you here." My blonde… Naruto's mouth widens to an amused smile.

"Hm. Well, I figured it was time to come see where you worked." My brother smirks broadens and his eyes seem to darken.

My vigilant eyes shift back and forth between the two. Trying to catch every movement. Every expression shared. Every word uttered.

"Hah." Naruto blushes and shyly rubs the back of his head.

_Wait… What the hell is going on here?_

"Uh, thanks." Naruto looks down for a moment, before looking back up though is eyelashes for a moment studying my brother. His lips pursed.

_God, no. Please tell me they aren't…_

Naruto's smile turns coy… Yes, coy, damn it. "It's not much of a job, though. I just spend the day taking unimaginative family portraits." He then laughs a self-deprecating laugh, while holding up his camera.

My brother, seated next to the aisle, next to my blonde, leans slightly closer to Naruto. He places his chin on top of his palm, and glances up at Naruto in a fashion that can only be interpreted in one way.

_I can't believe this is happening._

"Naruto, I've already experienced your true talent. This job pays the bills. I understand." He says in a low and highly seductive voice.

Oh, God. What the hell does _that _mean?

I really want Naruto to be _my_ blonde.

Something akin to soul-crushing disappointment floods through me. I never win against my brother. I press my lips together into a tight line as I try to fight off the feeling, willing it to go bother someone else. I really don't need this.

Naruto sends my brother a shy, embarrassed smile. I swiftly glance over at my parents, but they seem to be completely oblivious to the homosexual love-fest going on at our table. I can't say I'm surprised. They still haven't figured me out, and I'm around them almost every other day.

And I guess I'm just fucking invisible over here.

I can't watch this anymore. I'm about ready to throw my body out the plate glass window to my left. A freefall to my death, 605 feet below, sounds better than watching my brother shamelessly flirt with my most inspiring wet dream.

"Itachi," Naruto's smile turns deviously amused, "you can stop now. We both know it's never going to happen."

Itachi breaths out a pain-filled sigh. "Well, you can't blame a guy for trying." Still looking up at Naruto like he would like nothing more than to eat him for dinner.

Wait… does that mean...

My brother glances over to me and my barely-contained, confused death glare, and his lips tug into a highly amused smile. His eyes crinkling mischievously at the edges.

Shit. He's fucking with me.

Thank God.

My eyes narrow further, though. I'm not sure if I like the fact that he was only teasing, any more than when I thought he was seriously flirting with the blonde. Teasing indicates a certain level of intimacy, even if it's only friendship. Although, the blonde did tell my brother that he didn't have a chance. And that's vaguely satisfying. But still, I can't but feel… Ugh…

I feel jealous.

"Naruto, these are my parents, Fugaku and Mikoto." My brother turns away from me to gesture towards my parents.

I watch as my parents nod their heads. My father looks disapproving, no surprise there. My mother seems amused. I guess she enjoyed their banter, even if she didn't really understand the nuance of it.

Suddenly, I feel a heavy hand land on the top of my head. I instantly shoot my brother an irritated stare. Still trying my best not to glare. Damn it. It's hard.

"And this little ball of sunshine and joy is my cute little brother, Sasuke." The comment is highly contrasted by the rather insane glare I send to my brother, while passionately knocking his hand off my head. He responds with an amused and sickeningly sweet smile. Okay, yes, I glared, but I think I'm justified. He called me a 'little ball of sunshine and joy.' C'mon. Calling someone that should be illegal.

And God. I swallow and feel my left eye twitch. I can't believe he just said that in front of my blonde. I glare holes into the table in front of me, willing it to explode and crush my brother. If only.

My brother can be so embarrassing. I know he just does it to annoy me. But that knowledge doesn't stop another moment of unexplainable facial redness. Twice in one day. That has to be some kind of record.

I begrudgingly look up into my wet dream's expectant and excited expression. I wait for it to morph into one of surprise or recognition, but that moment doesn't come. He just looks...comfortably happy. Which somehow creates a disgustingly warm, fuzzy feeling in my gut.

"We've met," he says. The blonde then sends me a knowing smirk, his blue eyes boring into mine, as I try to maintain an apathetic expression. But the look he's sending me, like we share some elicit secret, sends shockwaves down my spine and settles in my cock. God, I want him so badly.

I fight the urge to bite my lip. I'm pretty sure that would give me away.

"Ah, yes. As I recall, he glared at you on the bus, and you refused to ride on it for several weeks because you were too afraid of running into him." My brother says quietly. A secretive smile on his lips.

I look between my brother and the blonde, as strange mixture of anxiety and pleasure washes through me. So, the blonde was afraid of seeing me? That must be why I couldn't find him. My obsidian eyes finally settle on Naruto again. This time secretly pleased. I feel the smile vaguely tugging at my lips.

It seems it's my blonde's turn to blush, as he sends my brother his cute version of a glare. "I wasn't afraid," he mutters. I really want to jump across the table and pounce on him.

Sometimes, I get this strange urge to beat things that I think are cute. It's weird, I know.

"Sure you weren't," my brother retorts. "Coward," he whispers.

My blonde seems to visibly expand, ready to respond…

"Itachi," my mother interrupts pleasantly. "How exactly do you know.. uhh.. Naruto, is it?"

I watched as Naruto suddenly deflates and scratches the back of his head. I would desperately like the answer to this question as well. "Itachi and I used to-"

"We've known each other for a while, Okasan. Maybe 7 years? He's been a good friend, and let's just leave it at that." Naruto looked confused for a moment, probably wondering about my brother's vague answer. I'm not that surprised; it's something my brother does all the time. In fact, he- wait… 7 years.

That's when my brother was still 'missing.'

I feel my mood physically darken. So, Naruto has knowledge of where my brother was during those six years. At least the last year he was missing. Something about that really rubs me the wrong way. I'm not sure if I'm upset about the fact that Naruto knew where my brother was at a time when I did not, or if I'm jealous that my brother has had Naruto to himself for 7 long years. Either way, I'm feeling pissed off and sulky.

Gritting my teeth, I lean back in my chair and try not to attract attention to myself. I don't want my brother reading my thoughts and teasing me for them. I stare out the window at the stupid fucking view and try not to think about all the time wasted. If only my stupid fucking brother hadn't mysteriously hidden the blonde from our family, I could have been with him all this time-

Wait.

It gets a little difficult to breath, as an uneasiness settle in my chest. I bite the edge of my lip. I don't really want to think of the implication involved with my last thought. But I do anyway. I sounds like I want some sort of… relationship… with him. But that can't be right. I've never wanted a relationship with anyone.

I swallow and look mournfully out the window at that stupid damn Ferris wheel again, cheerfully spinning in stupid flashy, light-covered circles. None of it matters anyway. With the rate this stupid family introduction is going, Naruto will probably always see me as his friend's cutesy little brother.

God, someone kill me.

"I should probably get back to work. Do you mind if I…?"

"Yes, of course." My mother says excitedly.

I look up just in time to see Naruto lifting his camera to his eye. A sense of panic and dread fills me. I really hate having my picture taken. Especially in family photos. My brother always manages to-

And as if on cue, my brother pulls my into a side hug, with his arm slung around my shoulder. "Be cute, Otouto," he announces, like he always does. And I glare at him, like I always do-

*Flash*

Damn it.

He hear the distinct sound of Naruto giggling. I glare at him from the corner of my eye, still trapped against my brother, but he's not looking at me. He staring down at the screen of the camera with an expression of pure delight. It would be cute, if I didn't know he was looking at my stupid picture. Naruto looks up, and his beautiful blue eyes instantly connect with mine. He gives me a warm smile, and I feel a thrill travel down my spine to the tip of my toes. He's instantly forgiven.

I bite the edge of my lip. I really like the way he's looking at me. Like I'm the only one around. My glare softens into a tiny pleased smile.

Suddenly my face is violently shoved away and smacks painfully against the window. "Okay, Naruto. You can stop checking out my little brother."

I hear my mother snicker. I try my best not to flush, as I grit my teeth together. I shove my brother's hand off my face and send him another heated glare. My dark eyes instinctively search for the blonde again. He looks embarrassed, cheeks tinted in pink, visible even in the darkness. Blue eyes pointed to the ground. He seem to be reflexively rubbing the back of his head. Must be some kind of nervous habit of his. I feel myself smirk. Hn. Cute. So I guess he was trying to flirt with me.

Maybe there's hope yet.

I get the distinct feeling of being watched. I look across the table, and I find my father staring at me oddly. My smirk instantly disappears, and a sense of panic sets in. Maybe my father isn't as oblivious as I thought.

"Umm… he heh…" Naruto nervously laughs. "I should be going. So, uhh… here's the card for the picture." He hands it to Itachi. "You just need to use the kiosk upstairs on the observation desk to get the free picture emailed to you. Okay?" His eyes shift over to mine again. He smiles a tiny hesitant smile. "Um. Bye." He blushes cutely at his lame 'Good Bye,' then quickly leaves our table.

I watch his back until he disappears around a corner. I suddenly realize my brother is staring at me with his usual evil smirk.

"I hate you, Itachi," I whisper, so my parents don't hear.

"No you don't, Otouto." My brother smirk widens, and his eyes begin to sparkle in the dim lighting. He pokes the center of my forehead with two fingers. An annoying habit of his. "Because I have his number."

Damn it.

I feel my eyebrow twitch. His fucking number?! I wonder what I'll have to do to get it.

...

Knowing Itachi, it won't be pleasant.

* * *

**That's it! :p**

**I look forward to your thoughts! **


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